


The Stars Are Sure to Shine

by Tabithian



Series: Ordinary Ways [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4861301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It's adorable, really,” Dick says, swiping a piece of carrot and just missing a retaliatory swat from the spoon in Jason's hand. “I mean, seriously, Jason. You never cook for me or Bruce when we're sick.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stars Are Sure to Shine

**Author's Note:**

> :D?

Jason's not _worried_ , okay? Just because Tim missed a day of school doesn't mean - 

“I'm not worried, jerkface.”

Dick leans his chin on his hand and gives Jason this stupid little smile. All soft and fond and amused.

“Jay, I hate to tell you this, but you kind of are.”

Jason scowls at him. Then down at the frilly little apron Alfred had handed him before bustling off to tend to other matter around the manor leaving Jason and Dick alone. With a little sigh, Jason looks at the pot of soup on the stove merrily cooking away.

Christ.

“It's adorable, really,” Dick says, swiping a piece of carrot and just missing a retaliatory swat from the spoon in Jason's hand. “I mean, seriously, Jason. You never cook for me or Bruce when we're sick.”

“That's because you two are fucking insufferable when you're sick. I'm surprised Alfred hasn't smothered one of you before now.”

Dick snorts. “He's threatened to, once or twice.”

God, Jason would have loved to have been there to see that.

“Why are you even in here?” Jason asks. 

Because really, why? It's not that exciting or entertaining watching someone cook, least of all Jason. 

“Wait.”

Dick sits up. 

Because this apron, okay. 

It's hideous. 

This awful floral pattern in eye-searing colors, and all the frilly shit does is accentuate how terrible it is. It's definitely not something Alfred would choose to buy.

And Dick is looking at him, this tiny, tiny smile on his face as Jason slowly puts the pieces together.

Dick knows Jason likes to cook sometimes. Nothing like what Alfred makes, although there are times when Alfred will teach Jason how to make this dish or that one when it's just them. Puttering around in the kitchen with Alfred and enjoying a quiet moment together.

“Did _you_ buy this monstrosity?”

Dick _beams_ at him and brings out his phone to take a picture before Jason even realizes what's happening, half-blinded by the flash as Dick cackles and runs like his life depends on it.

********

Tim's teachers, or, okay. The ones who aren't complete assholes anyway, absolutely love him.

Pretty much fell over themselves to help when Jason went to them to ask for the assignments and homework Tim missed that day. It almost made up for the looks he got from the teachers who don't like Tim, suspicious and disdainful.

He could tell the ones who love Tim weren't really sure of Jason, but he'd bitten back his pride and put his manners to use. He'd ended up loaded down with more schoolwork than he expected because of course Tim would be enrolled in all the AP classes he could get his grubby little paws on.

********

Jason can't get back at Dick when the jerk ruffles his hair because he's holding a container of soup in his hands, and Dick is the kind of jackass who'd take advantage of that.

Alfred's waiting patiently in the limo, and Dick has Jason's bag slung over his shoulder, like Jason is somehow incapable of carrying the soup and his bag at the same time.

“I can take it from here, you know. Thanks for everything and all?”

Dick treats Jason to a bright smile, as vapid as any Brucie's ever worn, and Jason shudders at the sight.

“Christ, don't _do_ that.”

Dick laughs a little meanly, and just for the hell of it apparently, pinches Jason's cheek.

“Um.”

Dick and Jason turn at that and the little cough that follows, and see Tim standing in the open doorway, a confused frown on his face. 

“Jason?”

God, Tim looks horrible. 

He shouldn't even be up and about, horrible. He's wearing sweats and his hair is this ungodly mess, sticking up haphazardly on one side and completely flat on the other and just.

“Christ.”

Tim makes a face. “Shut up.” 

Dick clears his throat pointedly, and Tim blinks up at him.

“Hey,” Tim says.

Jason can see Dick biting back a laugh. “Hey, yourself, kiddo. You look terrible.”

Tim rolls his eyes. 

“So charming,” but there's a tiny smile on his face.

“Jason made you soup,” Dick says, elbowing Jason. “Because you're sick.”

In case Tim was unaware of that fact? What the hell, Dick.

At that, Tim looks at Jason, gaze dropping to the container he's holding for a brief moment. 

“You can cook?”

Jason sighs as Dick starts laughing, and Tim smirks at him. And for fuck's sake, if this is what he gets when he tries to do something nice for the little shit - 

“Thank you,” Tim says, all quiet and genuinely sincere. “Uh. Come in?”

********

Jason's never actually been to the Drake mansion before, and neither has Dick from the way he's checking the place out.

He gives Jason a helpless little shrug, which, okay, yeah. Jason understands. It's not like they can turn their training off.

Tim looks at Dick when he asks where the bathroom is, surprisingly sharp for all that he looks like a stiff wind would knock him over and gestures down a hallway. 

“Here,” Dick says, and somehow manages to get Jason's bag on him without upsetting the soup container. Lowers his voice so only Jason can hear the last. “I have. Things to do.”

Jason stares after him because fucking seriously, is he going to bug Tim's house?

Dick glances back and flashes him a bright, disgustingly cheerful smile, and yes, yes he is. 

Jason slides a look at Tim, who looks amused and a little resigned, and Jason doesn't know what to make of that.

“Uh.”

“The kitchen's through here,” Tim says, and starts off down a different hallway.

********

Jason sets the container on a counter and drops his bag on a kitchen stool and turns to look at Tim who is leaning heavily against the wall watching him.

“Okay, right,” Jason says, and marches over to him. “You really look like shit, you know? If I didn't know better I'd think you were a zombie. You should probably get some sleep.”

Tim looks at him, totally unamused and Jason returns the favor, arms crossed. 

There's a tired little huff, and then Tim's letting him push him out of the kitchen pointing where Jason needs to go.

Aside from the three of them – wherever the hell Dick got off to – the mansion seems empty.

“Mrs. Mac have the night off or something?”

Part of the reason Jason's never been inside this place is the way Tim talks about it. Or his family life, anyway. Parents always off on one trip or another and Tim's obvious fondness for their current housekeeper, someone Jason really wants to meet one day if Tim think so much of her.

He's always dragging Tim back to the manor instead, where there are actual people who aren't paid to be there, no matter how fond of Tim Mrs. Mac might be. The only problem is, two of those people happen to be Dick and Bruce.

“Yeah,” Tim mumbles through a yawn. “There wasn't really a point to her staying if I'm sick, you know?”

Jason's eyes narrow at that. “You're such an idiot, Tim.”

Tim _hmms_ , like yes, okay, true.

Jason swats the back of his head lightly and laughs at the grumbling it gets him.

“This is my room,” Tim says, waving a hand at one of the identical looking doors in the hallway. 

Jason opens it, and pushes Tim through when the little shit just stands there.

It's.

Cluttered, a little. Clothes and books and old CDs. Comic books and a notebook or two. Bookshelves crammed full, laptop humming away on a desk lined with action figures. Band posters on the wall side by side with vintage movie posters – Tim's such a dork. 

Something about it though - 

“I'm a little messy, sorry about that,” Tim says, sounding sheepish as he tries to kick a shirt off to the side.

Jason looks around while Tim tidies up a little and. Seriously. It's like. Too perfect, this mess. Which. How that works, Jason doesn't know.

He looks back at Tim to see Tim looking at _him_ , arms full of clothes and random shit he's picked up.

“Okay,” Jason says. “That doesn't look like like someone who's supposed to be sleeping? Just so you know.”

Tim sighs and dumps his armful of crap on his desk next to the laptop and goes over to his bed and climbs in. Looks up at Jason. 

“Are you going to tuck me in?”

What.

And then Tim cracks up, laughing and coughing, touch of wheezing going on there too, because he is such a fucking idiot.

Jason waits until he's calmed down and walks over. Looks down at the little shit grinning up at him, face flushed and looking a little pale. Kind of gross, really. 

“You tell anyone about this, I'll kill you,” Jason says, and pulls the blankets up over Tim who looks like he's about to have another fit. “I'm serious, you little shit.”

Tim pulls one arm free of the blankets and pats Jason's arm, “Of course you are Jason, of course you are.”

Jason smiles, teeth showing as he tucks the blankets around Tim a little more forcefully than necessary, Tim laughing at him the entire time.

********

“Are you kidding me?” Jason asks.

Dick looks up from where he's sticking his nose in the kitchen pantry, snooping like a good little Bat. Or just Dick, who the hell knows.

“Bruce was...concerned,” Dick says, treading carefully, as he should. 

“About?”

Dick closes the pantry door, walks over to one of the counters and hitches himself up onto it. 

“This,” Dick says, waving a hand around them. “Tim. You.”

Jason -

“Whoa, whoa, calm down, Jason. It's.” Dick sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters something about emotionally stunted idiots, which could refer to any of them, really. “He likes Tim, okay? Bruce likes the little punk, and so do I.”

There's a little twist to Dick's mouth at that, and yeah, he's not going to forget his first meeting with Tim anytime soon, that's for damn sure.

“But you know how he is, right? Super paranoid Batdad.”

Jason chokes, because what?

Dick smirks at him, says, “It's as much for Tim's sake as it is Bruce's.”

Really.

Dick looks at him, and Jason.

Fuck.

He's actually kind of impressed Bruce has put it off this long, that he didn't just sneak in and bug the place himself when Jason and Tim first met. 

Still.

“We're all so fucked up,” Jason mutters, because if this is one of the ways they show concern - 

“What?” Dick asks with a shrug. “Like that's news to you?”

Jason sighs.

“I'll tell Bruce you're skipping patrol tonight.”

Jason looks at him, and Dick shrugs because he knows there's no one here to keep an eye on Tim.

“Consider it an apology from Bruce?”

Jason laughs, can't help it because seriously. This stupid family.

********

Tim wanders down to the kitchen a few hours later when Jason's rolling his eyes hard at some passage in his textbook.

“You look ridiculous,” Tim says taking a seat across from him, like he isn't wrapped up in a blanket.

“I seem to remember,” Jason says, “some little shit saying something about pots and kettles? Who was it again?”

Tim grumbles, a cranky little caterpillar in his blanket cocoon.

“Why are you still here?”

Jason should probably take offense, but Tim seems honestly confused.

“It's quieter here,” Jason says, shrugs. “No Dick.”

Tim blinks, then nods like ah, yes, that makes perfect sense. 

“You hungry?”

Tim looks at him, head tipped to the side. “Is it going to kill me?”

Jason shrugs. “Only one way to find out.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tim says. “I like to live dangerously.”

God, he's such a little shit.

Tim smirks at him, and Jason.

Jason sighs and goes to take the soup out of the fridge where he put it earlier and gives Tim a look because the damn fridge is almost empty.

“Mrs. Mac does the shopping on Wednesdays, she says it's the best day for sales?” Tim says, sounding confused at the concept.

Which, okay. Given the damn mansion and everything, Jason gets it. 

Just.

Jason looks at Tim and wonders if the little shit even knows what something normal like a gallon of milk costs.

“What?”

Jason shakes his head and goes back to hunting down dishes and a pot to warm the soup up in. He can hear Tim moving around, pawing through the stack of schoolwork Jason set aside for him, coughing and sniffling and trying his best to hide it.

“You got my homework?”

Jason bites the inside of his cheek at the surprise in Tim's voice. 

“Well, yeah,” Jason says, turning the stove burner to medium. “You always do the same thing for me, right?”

There's a telling sort of silence that Jason steadfastly ignores because _goddamn_. He's sure learning a lot tonight, isn't he.

Tim makes this little noise that could be assent or a stifled cough and Jason lets the matter drop, too tired to pursue it just now. 

He watches the soup boil and turns the heat down, listening to Tim muttering to himself over his homework trying to get his brain to work, which.

Yeah, probably not for a while. 

Tim is pretty damn sick, he'll probably have to stay home a couple more days at least.

When the soup's done, Jason ladles a portion into a bowl for Tim and takes it over to the little table he's sitting at.

Tim makes a face as he shoves his homework off to one side, clearly frustrated at his inability to focus.

Jason watches as Tim takes a tiny, tiny spoonful of soup. 

Sips – No.

 _Tastes_ it, like he's trying to pick out flavors, like, oh, say. 

Poison.

“Well?”

“I'm not detecting anything poisony,” Tim says, giving Jason a suspicious look.

Jason smirks. “I got the good stuff. Odorless, tasteless, you won't even know it's there.”

Tim laughs. “Nice.”

********

“Wow. Talk about déjà vu,” Tim says.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Shut it.”

Tim sighs, like oh, how terrible is his lot in life and flops down onto his bed. Grimaces because he's an idiot and he's been moving like a seriously tiny old man the whole night, aches and pains from his cold.

Jason watches him flop and wriggle around until Tim's some kind of comfortable, and drapes the blanket over him.

Tim's voice is faintly muffled by the blanket when he says, “I can't breathe?” 

Jason hums, and kicks back in Tim's computer chair picking up one of the books on his desk. Pages through it.

Tim lets out an annoyed huff and claws the blanket down away from his face, and scowls at Jason.

“I'm sorry, did you say something?” Jason asks, oh so polite

Another one of those Victorian era sighs, and then Tim sits up and looks at Jason.

Doesn't say anything, just looks at Jason like a creeper.

Jason glances over against his will as the silence drags on. “What?”

Tim's face does this thing, like it's not really sure if it wants to be amused or annoyed or who even knows, and finally settles on something like fond. (With an undercurrent of annoyance.)

“Thank you,” he says, and that's so not fucking fair because he's doing that thing again where he's all quiet and sincere, a little bit surprised. “I know you probably have better things to be doing than this, but. Thanks.”

Jason looks at Tim, fingers picking at loose threads on his blankets, eyes focused on that so he doesn't notice when Jason gets up.

Doesn't see Jason snag a pillow off the floor as he walks closer, only seems to notice when Jason steps into his periphery and throws the pillow at him.

“You're kind of an idiot, Tim,” Jason says, watching Tim sputter as he bats the pillow away. “I mean seriously.”

“Ugh,” Tim says, and flops back, covering his face with the pillow. “You're such a jerk, Jason.”

Jason might take offense to _that_ , but there's too much amusement in it for him to take it seriously.

“I try,” he says, and grins when Tim lowers the pillow to scowl at him.

“Jerk.”

“Go to sleep, Tim,” Jason says, reaches out and ruffles his hair because good God is he an adorable cranky little shit. “You still look like a zombie.”

Tim sighs, mutters something about Jason's stupid face and rolls over so his back is to Jason, like he's _five_.

Nowhere near as bad as Dick and Bruce get when they're sick, but he's getting there.

“You're going to get a crimp in your neck if you fall asleep in that chair,” Tim says, a little rueful. “Believe me, I know.”

Somehow, Jason isn't surprised by that.

Tim shifts, nervous, then peeks over his shoulder at Jason. “If you're going to stay,” he says, and there's still a note of confusion in his voice over that, “there's room here.”

Jason raises an eyebrow, and Tim huffs, clearly smiling against his will. “You know what I mean, jerk.”

Jason grins, and takes a moment to grab Tim's book off his desk before laying down on top of the blankets next to Tim and starts to read. It's some kind of science fiction space opera thing, political intrigue and a tiny, insanely brilliant dork. (Tim's talked about it to Jason before, rambling during one of their tutoring sessions, but Jason's never really had the time to look into it.)

Tim sort of wriggles around until he's facing Jason, little frown on his face.

“Want me to read to you?” 

The look on Tim's face for that, but then - 

“Sure,” Tim says, and he's smirking and why did Jason think the little shit would say no?

Jason looks at Tim who just looks right back, and.

“All right,” Jason says, and settles in to regale Tim with tales of a tiny, stupidly brilliant dork and all his horrible ideas across the galaxy while his people regret all their life choices. (Weirdly familiar, really.)

A few minutes in and Tim's breathing evens out, faint wheeze to it, but nothing to worry about.

Probably.

Jason eyes Tim, irritated at the surge of. It's not paranoia, just. Reasonable concern, because this is _Tim_.

“Such a little shit,” Jason sighs, and goes back to reading the book, checking on Tim every so often just in case.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so really Jason could be reading any one of the books from Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan Saga, but in this instance he was reading _The Vor Game_ to Tim. (Because reasons.)


End file.
